


Lover of the Light

by Starofwinter



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, GFY, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 01:58:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7133927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starofwinter/pseuds/Starofwinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dogma has never had a voice; he learned early to keep his head down and his mouth shut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lover of the Light

**Author's Note:**

> This is just my exploration of what might have happened to Dogma. The idea of him being placed with Slick comes from Star Wars: Destinies, which is an excellent webcomic over on Tumblr.

Dogma couldn’t remember being  _ happy  _ before.  He’d spent his years in the Academy being bullied by the instructors - he was a runt, a defect.  He should have been culled before he ever drew his first breath.  It had terrified him into compliance.  He did what he was told, when he was told, kept his head down and took the abuse, and he didn’t say a word.  It was good training, he told himself late at night, when he was licking his wounds in the relative isolation of his pod, with supplies he’d scavenged from the medbay when no one was looking.

Then he graduated, and things were… better, sort of.  He was still alone, but General Skywalker was a good Jedi, and he did his best.  His brothers still tended to tease him for being smaller, for being younger, for snapping to attention the second someone so much as breathed an order or an officer’s name in his direction, but they didn’t  _ get it _ .  They were too lax with the rules, and he knew too well the kind of trouble that could lead to.  So he kept his head down and he followed orders, and he tried not to flinch too badly when his brothers got too loud or rowdy.

Umbara was-  Umbara was wrong on so many levels, but he  _ knew _ what he was supposed to do then.  He knew how to follow Krell’s orders and how to keep his head down, and how to just stay out of the way as much as he could.  That part was easy.  The rest of his brothers - they didn’t understand.  They were too used to the good kind of officers, they didn’t know what to do with a general like Krell.  He didn’t want to do what he did; he didn’t  _ want  _ to give the order to execute Jesse and Fives, but no one would ever believe him if he said it.  It was wrong but-  he had to, didn’t he?  No.  No, he didn’t need to.  He’d done it to save his own skin, but he wouldn’t do that again.  He was so sick of following orders and taking every hit that was aimed his way.  When he pulled Fives’ blaster and executed Krell where he stood, it wasn’t just the rogue Jedi he saw.  It was every instructor that had ever torn him down, who’d thrown him around, who’d hit him when his scores weren’t good enough, or just for fun.  He wasn’t  _ happy _ , he was  _ satisfied _ .

Kamino was a different kind of hell.  He retreated back into his old mindset, and while it didn’t keep him safe, it meant that he at least didn’t get the kinds of treatment Slick did.  He admired his cellmate in a way he’d never admit out loud.  Slick was snarling and defiant, spitting in the face of everyone who dared try to hurt him.  He told Dogma to fuck off at first, the line drawn between them invisible but solid.  But the second one of the guards tried to lay a hand on him, Slick moved almost too fast for Dogma to see him, grabbing the trooper and headbutting him hard enough to break the man’s nose.  It was almost worth a week without meals just to think that there was someone who would stand up for him.

It only got worse when Kamino changed hands.  It wasn’t the Kaminoans in charge of the detention center anymore, it was Fox.  Slick had laughed at first, telling Dogma that Fox might not have been too bad if he hadn’t had the Chancellor fucking with him every chance he got, but Dogma knew.  There were some things bred bone-deep, and knowing  _ danger _ was one of them.  They were both terrified, and for good reason.  Other inmates started to disappear.  It wasn’t the predictable kind of abuse anymore, it was… it was something worse.  He lost count of how long they were there before things changed between one heartbeat and the next.  In one second, he’d lost his voice and nearly his life to Fox’s hand, and all he could remember for a long while was Slick’s hand in his and his gruff voice begging Dogma to stay with him before darkness rushed up to claim him.

When he woke up, _everything_ had changed.  They were on Mandalore, and they were _free._  He’d cried when Slick explained everything, from their rescue to the Duchess of Mandalore and General Kenobi taking them in, and he didn’t care if he looked weak.  It’d been the best news he’d ever heard.  Slick had gone on to explain that the doctors had done what they could to repair the damage done to his throat, but it didn’t look good.  He didn’t care.  He’d find a way to speak again, no matter what.  For now, it was enough to stand in the sun for the first time in years and feel the warmth of Slick’s hand in his.  


They found a place for him teaching kids, and he settled into it like he was born to it.  The younglings didn’t care that he couldn’t speak, they _loved_ him with all their hearts, and he loved them back just as fiercely.  He enjoyed teaching them; they were innocent and happy, and he went home to Slick every day with a smile and new stories to tell him.  He might not be able to speak but as he signed, he learned what it meant to have a voice again.  He was finally, _finally_ happy.


End file.
